


Voltron one-shots

by jenatwork



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Food, Earth food is weird, Gender Roles, Humans Are Weird, Multi, sci-fi tropes, there is no pizza in space
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-07-29 19:33:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7696636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenatwork/pseuds/jenatwork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I said I wasn't going to write Voltron fic. A week later, I have a notebook full of fic ideas. Here they be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pendulum

**Author's Note:**

> I have fallen into Voltron hell. And apparently, like Fed-Ex, I ship everything. But mostly I like how the show plays around with science-fiction tropes. I'm a sucker for sci-fi with actual science, and I like anything that subverts the expectations of the genre, which is what I'm aiming to do with these short one-shots.

After a mission, Keith's preferred activities were showering, eating, and sleeping. Not necessarily in that order. These impromptu parties that people insisted on throwing whenever Voltron saved the day ranked about as high on his list of fun times as cleaning out the food goo dispensers in the castle kitchen. He'd found that the best way to get through them was to spend maybe five minutes shadowing Shiro, nodding along with whatever he had to say to people, before quietly slipping away to find a quiet corner and a plate of whatever local delicacy had been prepared in their honour.

They'd stumbled across the planet Dyansi almost by accident; it was Pidge's sheer boredom, staring at the blips on the communications monitors, that had alerted the team to the faint energy signals that turned out to be a handful of Galra ships attempting a raid on a collection of small islands near the planet's equator. It hadn't taken long for the five lions to bring them down, and Keith had hoped that they could regroup and be on their way, but Allura had insisted on checking in with the locals, and pretty soon they were being given a flying escort to an impressive-looking city near the coast of the planet's biggest continent, where they were cheered and praised and given actual medals of honour.

Of course there was another party. The islands they'd defended had apparently been part of a mining operation to collect some mineral that was a big deal on Dyansi, and the attack and subsequent battle became planet-wide news within minutes. They were taken to some big fancy building where there were more speeches, and music, and even a buffet with sweet-smelling drinks that Coran discretely told them to avoid.

Leaning against the wall in his chosen corner, Keith absently ran his fingers over the warm metal of the medal around his neck and watched the gathering. Dyansi civilisation seemed pretty advanced, tech-wise – they had high-rise buildings made from stone that glimmered faintly in the sunlight, and streets filled with vehicles that looked a bit like his speeder back home only more streamlined. Most Dyansians wore headsets that were part of some mobile communications system, and they even had a public broadcast network, with huge screens on the outsides of buildings showing replays of the final moments of their battle with the Galra.

It wasn't massively different from some Earth cities, except that the almost tropical heat meant that the people themselves went about their business almost completely naked.

Dyansians seemed to come in two different models. Most were as tall as Shiro and as broad as Hunk, with skin the colour and texture of peaches. They wore something around their waists which functioned more like utility belts than clothing, and they waved their large hands around expressively as they spoke. They didn't seem to have bellybuttons or nipples, which made Keith feel a little better about having to look at their broad bare chests; they almost looked like giant teddy bears, right down to their shiny black noses and tiny claws at the tips of their fingers.

About a quarter of them were noticeably smaller, much more lithe, with delicate limbs and a pinker hue to their skin. They spoke with soft, melodious voices – there had even been a choir of them singing what he'd presumed to be some Dyansian national anthem – and rarely looked their bigger counterparts in the eye. Quite a few of them wore elaborate chains around their necks, and all wore skirts which fell to their knees, in soft fabrics that billowed as they walked. Keith watched, listening in to snatches of conversations, trying to figure out if there was some sort of class system on display. The smaller ones seemed able to come and go as they pleased, but spoke mostly to each other, and a quick scan of the room told him that it was only smaller Dyansians who were working as servers at the celebration, carrying trays of food and filling glasses.

In the centre of the room, Shiro and Coran were talking seriously about defensive strategy with a group of the larger Dyansians; the one who'd been introduced as the elected leader was nodding along appreciatively and asking questions in a voice so low and gravelly that Keith could barely make out a word from where he stood. Allura seemed to be negotiating some kind of trade deal with another of the bigger Dyansians, each of them making lists on their own planet's version of a tablet-computer. Hunk and Pidge, unsurprisingly, were filling up on food, chatting with one of the servers about local cuisine, and Keith sincerely hoped that someone would be able to snag some of the grilled fish they'd been served to take back to the castle, because it was amazing. And Lance...

Of course, Lance had cornered one of the smaller Dyansians by the buffet table and, although Keith was too far away to hear their conversation, he was in no doubt that Lance was currently putting the moves on yet another unsuspecting alien.

Suddenly feeling in need of cheering up, Keith shoved away from the wall he'd been leaning on and stealthily made his way closer to Lance, just enough to be able to hear him without being spotted.

“Did you see it on the replays?” Lance was asking his poor victim with a lopsided smile. “That was me, in the blue lion. I took down five of those Galra bad boys myself, you know. Not that it was that hard – no, that's all in a day's work when you're a paladin of Voltron.” He took a sip from the glass in his hand, then bravely tried not to look surprised when its strong intoxicating contents hit the back of his throat.

“You were all most impressive,” the Dyansian answered. Keith wished he'd paid more attention when they'd been giving their speeches earlier; he couldn't tell just from the tone when they were being sincere and when they were just being polite. But then this one actually leaned a little closer to Lance, looking up at him with eyes that looked like they belonged on a baby deer, and Lance preened at the attention.

Under the pretence of investigating an interesting-looking plate of fruit further down the table, Keith sidled closer, hoping to catch more of Lance's pick-up attempts.

“You know, the lions are even more impressive from the inside,” Lance was saying, tracing a fingertip around the edge of his glass. “Since we're going to be here for a few more hours at least, how about I take you out for a little spin?”

Keith watched out of the corner of his eye, equal parts fascinated and horrified at the thought of someone actually going along with Lance's terrible flirting. Before the Dyansian could reply, however, one of the servers approached and whispered in the ear of Lance's target. Those doe-eyes widened in surprise, then looked Lance up and down a couple of times.

“Actually, it seems I am needed elsewhere. Do excuse me, _sir_.” The Dyansian turned and hurried after the server, whispering and gesturing frantically about something Keith couldn't hear. He turned his attention back to Lance, whose shoulders had slumped in defeat.

Keith finally stepped into Lance's field of vision, still making up his mind whether to start with a consolation or go straight to teasing.

“Do I have garlic breath or something?” Lance leaned towards him and huffed in his face, causing Keith to stagger backwards.

“No more than usual, jerk,” he muttered. Consoling Lance? What had he been thinking?

“I don't get it! We were getting along great, and then bam! Denied!” Lance absently took another sip of his drink, gagging once again at the strength of it. He set the glass down on the buffet table, just as Hunk and Pidge wandered over to join them.

“Struck out again, huh?” Hunk asked, laying a hand on Lance's shoulder. “Too bad, buddy.” Pidge, who had been investigating the glass Lance had abandoned, looked up in surprise.

“Wait, Lance, were you actually trying to get a date with - ” Pidge looked in the direction the two Dyansians had gone, eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.

“Everything was going fine,” Lance whined, crossing his arms. “I was just about to take her out for a ride in my lion, and then the waitress appears out of nowhere and suddenly I'm dateless!”

Hunk snickered, suddenly unable to look Lance in the eye. 

“Uh, Lance?” Pidge leaned in, as if about to share some big secret. “You do know the little ones are the males, right?”

Hunk's snicker became a guffaw, quickly hidden behind both his hands.

Lance rolled his eyes and sneered at Pidge.

“Yeah, right! Then why are they wearing skirts, genius?”

“To cover up their enormous - ”

“Pidge!” Hunk quickly slapped a hand over Pidge's mouth. “No one wants to hear the end of that sentence. But, uh...” He turned to Lance, still with a hand over Pidge's mouth. “Pidge is right, dude. And I think he thought you were a girl.”

Keith watched Lance stare after the Dyansian, who was now engaged in a whispered argument with the server who'd steered him away. He wondered if their conversation was the same as this one. Lance's face was tinged an interesting shade of pink, his eyebrows furrowed and forehead creased.

“Nice work, man.” He nudged Lance with his elbow to get his attention. “Didn't know you swung that way.”

“He has such pretty eyes...” Lance's voice was distant, practically dreamy. “Maybe I should have offered to let him drive the blue lion.” And before Keith could respond, Lance was following after his target, helmet tucked under one arm as he slicked his hair back with his free hand.

“Maybe Lance's pendulum just swings towards whichever direction is prettiest,” Hunk mused. Keith barely heard him, focused as he was on Lance's retreating form.

“You know, pendulums used for divination swing all ways.” Pidge spoke around a mouthful of food. “Not that there's any scientific merit to divination. But it's appropriate for a pendulum metaphor, I think.”

As Keith watched, Lance and the Dyansian resumed their conversation with lots of waving hand gestures that seemed to indicate a mix of confusion and humour. Seconds later, the two of them were slipping out of the room.

Hunk and Pidge seemed deep in a conversation about the scientific value of crystal divination and how it might be a basic form of the tech used in their lions. Keith wasn't paying attention anymore. 

“Huh.” He wondered if he really could hear the distant roar of an engine, or if he was just imagining it. “Who'd have guessed?”


	2. Life As We Know It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternative titles for this chapter included 'The Mating Habits Of The Earth-Bound Human' and 'Show Me Some More Of This Earth-Thing Called Kissing!'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much as I love reading shippy Voltron fics, it seems that all I want to write is deconstructions of sci-fi tropes. It's still fun, and I still get to head-canon about the characters themselves. Maybe later I'll write some shippy stuff, but for now here's 1,800 words of Lance, Hunk and Pidge speculating about alien biology.

“Are all the people on this planet like that?”

They'd stopped for supplies on a fairly innocuous-looking planet, all wide green continents and seas that looked nearly red under dark orange sky. Initial scans had shown few life signs; Coran had assumed nothing sentient, since he'd detected only slow-moving creatures in small collections scattered across the largest landmass. _Herd-animals_ , he'd announced. _Most likely herbivores. Nothing to worry about._

Turned out there was plenty of sentient life. Rather angry sentient life, too. A settlement full of cold-blooded, thick-skinned, vaguely humanoid people who lived mostly underground or in caves, which was why they hadn't shown up on any scans until they'd actually landed. Coran had deduced (once they'd been able to assure the spear-wielding warriors who'd attacked their lions that they meant no harm) that they'd found a planet where reptilian creatures had evolved to become the dominant species. Even more interesting, he told the team, was that their evolution had taken a massive leap in the ten thousand years since Altea's destruction – there had certainly been no sentient life there the last time any Altean ships had visited.

Eventually they'd placated their would-be attackers, offered to trade some of their surplus supplies in exchange for not having spears hurled at them, and were currently waiting around while the castle-ship's water storage tanks were refilled.

Lance, who'd ignored Shiro's warnings and was currently sunbathing shirtless by the side of the blue lion, turned to look at Hunk, who was sitting up to watch a group of locals picking fruit from a nearby patch of bushes.

“Like what?” he asked. “Like lizard-people?”

Hunk picked at the sparse dry grass growing in patches around them.

“No. Well, yeah, kinda.” He shrugged. “But, like, all these planets we've seen. All these different people.” He made a vague gesture around his head that could have indicated the lizard-people they were watching or any number of planets out there in space. “We drop down on a planet. We meet the locals. Like, one city full of people, or one village, or one mining colony. And Coran gives us a lecture about 'the noble citizens of planet thingummy'. And I think, _all of them_? All the people on one entire planet, and they're all like that?”

Lance sort of felt like he got what Hunk was wondering about. He rolled over on to his side, propping up his head with one hand.

“You think there might be some non-lizard people somewhere around here?”

Hunk shrugged again.

“I don't know. Maybe? I mean, what if, say, aliens landed on earth? Only they landed in the Amazon, and found one of those little villages where they don't have any tech and they never see anyone from outside the village? Or what if they landed in France and they think everyone on planet Earth speaks French and eats croissants?”

“What if they landed in the middle of the Australian outback and thought that kangaroos were the dominant species?” Lance chuckled, warming up to the topic.

A few feet further away, Pidge was tinkering with a portable scanner.

“Might not be such a bad thing,” she suggested. “I think I'd rather hang out with kangaroos than a lot of humans I know.”

“But think about it,” Hunk said. “Humans come in all different shapes and sizes. We have all these different languages and cultures and cuisines. You can't eat a croissant and say, 'that's what Earth food is like'. Not that I'm ragging on croissants, 'cause that's a tasty breakfast. But what about scrambled eggs, or toast, or Lucky Charms? Ooh, I wonder if there's something in the castle kitchen I could make marshmallows out of.”

Before Hunk could start moaning about food goo, Lance tried to drag the conversation back on-topic.

“So you think maybe somewhere on this planet, there might be some hot lizard-girls? Like ones that don't have those spines on their noses?”

“I'm fairly certain there are lizard-girls in the village we found,” Pidge assured him, gesturing towards the settlement with her screwdriver.

“Not hot ones, though,” he whined.

Pidge, confused, set down her scanner and turned to look at Lance.

“What exactly makes for a 'hot' lizard girl?”

He thought for a moment, then moved his hands to his chest – just as he was about to make the universal sign for 'nice boobs', Pidge scowled at him.

“Lizard girls aren't going to have breasts, Lance.”

He crossed his arms, unashamedly pouting.

“Okay, logically, I get that. But...maybe, how about like an axolotl? Sort of pink, with those little feathery things?”

“Axolotls are cute,” Hunk agreed. “But I think they live underwater all the time.”

“Well, how about something like a chameleon? Colour-changing skin, and a prehensile tail?” He looked at Hunk and waggled his eyebrows.

“And those weird two-toed hands?” Hunk made pincer-movements with his own hands to demonstrate. “Not for me, man. Plus their eyes are weird.”

“Face it, Lance,” Pidge said, “you're not going to find any lizard-girl hot. You're judging by mammalian standards.”

“Hey, I am nothing if not an equal opportunity boyfriend! Nyma wasn't human and she was hot. Well, before she betrayed me and stole my lion. But the hotness still stands.” He looked between the other two, but they didn't seem convinced. “Okay, Hunk, what about Shay? The Balmerans weren't exactly...” He broke off and waved his hands to indicate an hour-glass figure. “But you thought she was hot.”

He regretted his choice of words just a little when Hunk sighed and rolled his eyes.

“I did not think Shay was _hot_. I thought Shay was a beautiful person and I admired her courage and her spirit.” The way he said it made it clear that Hunk was starting to tire of repeating the same sentiment. Okay, maybe they did wind him up a little too much about Shay, but honestly, Hunk was the only one out of all of them who'd had any kind of alien action, so it was still a big deal to Lance.

“So you didn't spend all that time up on that cliff kissing her?” Pidge teased. “You just watched the sunrise and had meaningful conversation?” She raised her eyebrows, and when Hunk didn't answer straight away, she made a kissy-face at him. “Oh Hunk, you saved me from the Galra, how can I ever repay you? How about by sitting quietly and talking about crystals and space and stuff?” Lance couldn't help laughing along with her as she broke off into giggles.

“Actually, Balmerans don't kiss.”

They both stopped to look at Hunk, partly in confusion and partly out of surprise that he didn't seem angry at their teasing.

“They don't?”

“Nope.” Hunk shook his head. “Actually, they have this thing – well, they don't really have a word for it, but see, they have this spot on their hands that's really sensitive.” He held out his own broad palm to demonstrate. “And when they want to, you know, be affectionate with someone, they put their hands together. Sort of like when they sent vibrations through the Balmera itself. But, like, vibrating with each other.”

“Vibrating hands?” Lance snorted. “Bet the Balmera chicks really dig that!” Hunk shoved him, just enough to make him wobble, but he still smiled at Lance's suggestion. “Did Shay vibrate with you?”

Hunk didn't say anything, but the sudden flush in his cheeks spoke volumes. 

“Hunk, you dog!”

Pidge, who had gone back to working on her scanner, cocked her head thoughtfully. 

“I guess it makes sense that they don't kiss. I mean, they don't exactly have lips. But then that makes you wonder how they manage to vocalise like humans.” She set down her screwdriver and picked up an Altean tool that looked to Lance like a torx bit that glowed with heat at its tip. “Balmerans are silicon-based rather than carbon-based, right?”

Lance looked at Hunk questioningly.

“Rock-people, not meat-people,” Hunk explained.

“Just thinking about how they're even mobile is fascinating,” Pidge went on. “I wonder if they're molten on the inside.”

“I hope you never get a chance to find out,” Hunk told her, although she seemed too engrossed in her work to have heard him.

Lance leaned in towards Hunk and dropped his voice.

“So, uh, did you find out...you know, how rock-people...” He made another vague wavy-hand gesture. “Make babies?”

“Oh, that's the really cool thing!” Hunk's face lit up. “They grow these little crystals! I mean, not all of them, the ones that are, well, I guess you'd call them female, since they're the ones that make the crystals. Anyway, they grow these little crystals after exchanging minerals with the males, and the crystals kind of fall off after a few months, and they grow into baby Balmerans! Shay told me that. And they can grow the crystals at any age, so there's old Balmeran ladies who can still make babies, and the babies know who their parents are but the whole community works together to raise the crystal-babies and the whole thing just sounded so adorable!” He broke off when he realised Lance was staring at him. “Oh. You didn't mean actually making babies. You meant _makin' babies_.” He imitated Lance's wavy-hand gesture. Lance nodded. “That, I don't know. It didn't seem polite to ask.”

Lance flopped backwards to lay down again. The planet's sun was dipping lower on the horizon, but to Lance it still felt deliciously warm out. In the distance, the lizard-people were gradually disappearing into their burrows; apparently they only came out when the sun was up, since being cold-blooded made it much harder for them to move around when there wasn't as much heat.

“Well, I guess a little vibrating hand action is the most any of us are gonna get for a while.”

He heard Hunk make a quite noise of acknowledgement.

“So you didn't even try kissing Shay?” he asked, when he couldn't think of any other interesting conversation. 

“Nah.”

“She might have liked it.”

“Lance, I do not share your fantasies of some triple-breasted alien girl saying 'Show me some more of this earth-thing called kissing!'” They both shared a laugh, before settling back into companionable quiet for a while.

“Sorry, bud.” Lance reached out blindly until his hand hit what he guessed was Hunk's knee, which he patted a couple of times. “I guess it's just a little weird hearing you get all mushy about a _girl_.”

“Hey, it was weird for me too,” Hunk admitted. “Didn't think I ever would.”

“So did you think Shay's brother was hot?” He turned his head just enough to meet Hunk's gaze.

“He was a rock-person. And kind of a jerk.”

“And Nyma stole my lion and chained me to a tree, but I can still acknowledge that she was hot.”

“I don't think rocks are my type.” Hunk lay back, stretching out beside him. “I like kissing. Holding hands is nice, but it's not quite the same.”

Lance shuffled a little until his shoulder butted up against Hunk's.

“Do you think the lizard-men are hot?”

“Shut up, Lance.”


	3. Eighteen different ways to prepare potatoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All these wonderful ships, and here I am writing about space food. Massive, massive nerd.

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, guys.” Even before he'd finished speaking, Hunk could see everyone's faces drop, He hated being the bearer of bad news, but they'd find out sooner or later. “We won't be getting pizza.”

Pidge sighed. Keith huffed and crossed his arms. Lance wailed, arms thrown skyward in defeat.

“You promised!”

“No, Lance, I don't think I actually promised.” Hunk placed both hands on the kitchen table, eyes scanning over the other three paladins sitting opposite him. “I mean, I know we've got the toppings down – those red seed pod things we found two planets ago fry up real good, like peppers, and Shiro found that fungus - ”

“Mushrooms,” Lance corrected.

“Those mushrooms that aren't poisonous to humans,” he continued with barely a pause. “And the little white bug things - ”

“Protein-based food stuff.”

“Lance, they're just bugs,” Keith interjected. “It's no weirder than eating shrimp, or crab.”

“No way is anyone putting bugs on my pizza.” Lance waved a finger threateningly in Keith's direction. Hunk was relieved they were sitting either side of Pidge and not actually close enough to hit each other.

“Fine, Lance, we have a protein-based food,” he repeated, trying to steer the conversation back on-topic. “But so far we don't have anything to make the dough.”

“How hard can it be to make dough?” Pidge adjusted her glasses. “I made a cloaking device, I reprogrammed an alien robot, we fly around outer space in sentient freakin' lions! How hard is it to make pizza dough?”

Hunk took a steadying breath.

“There's no flour. Because there is no wheat. Or grains.” The three of them glared at him disbelievingly. “I know, right? How can a species evolve without a grain-based diet? But seriously, Alteans did not have anything remotely resembling wheat, or corn, or rice. I talked to Coran about it and he didn't get it.”

“What's to get?” Lance was pouting. Honestly, Hunk had pouted a little too when he'd found out.

“Well, when I asked Coran about flour, he said, 'What's that?' So I told him it's ground-up grains that you mix with water and fat and you bake it, and he said, 'You're telling me that some human looked at a field full of plants, and instead of just eating the plants, decided to pick off the seeds, grind them up with stones, mix them with water, put the stuff on a fire and _then_ eat it? No wonder humans are so far behind the rest of the galaxy in terms of evolution – you never invented the wormhole generator because you were too busy playing with your food!'” He took a deep breath – it did sound a little strange saying out loud to someone else.

Pidge snorted. “More like Alteans were too busy playing with shiny rocks to invent good food. Coran wouldn't know a chilli pepper if it punched him in the moustache.”

“Actually,” Hunk countered, “I think a chilli pepper might kill him.”

Three surprised faces all turned to gape at him.

“See, the way I figure, Alteans eat food goo because it's all they can stomach. Literally. Like, every plant known on Altea was benign – no poisons or irritants, and no strong flavours. So anything like a chilli would just be too much for them to handle. Plus I don't think Alteans have sensitive taste-buds.”

“That, I can believe,” Pidge said, looking a little smug.

“So the dough's a no-go.” Lance rested his elbows on the table, leaning forwards a little and smiling at his inadvertent rhyme. “What about cheese? Some good melted cheese on top of those fried seed pods would still be good. Everyone knows that the cheese is the best part of the pizza.”

Hunk rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly nervous.

“See, that's the really tough part.” 

“Why?”

“Milk.”

“What, Alteans are all lactose-intolerant too?” Lance rolled his eyes.

“When I tried explaining milk to Coran, he laughed and said milk was only for babies. So I told him humans drink cows' milk and goats' milk, and he nearly threw up. Apparently the idea of drinking milk from other animals is icky.”

“Well, I guess it does sound a little weird,” Keith agreed, frowning.

“And then Coran got upset at the idea of the baby cows and goats being deprived of their mothers' milk, so I explained about farms and milking machines, and Coran actually did throw up.” Hunk tried to suppress a wave of nausea at the memory of it.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Pidge held up a hand. “If there's no milk, does that mean...” She looked around to make sure she had everyone's attention. “Does that mean there's no chocolate?”

Hunk shook his head.

All three of them groaned. Lance's forehead hit the table.

“No chocolate. No hot cocoa before bed. No chocolate-covered raisins - ”

“Those things suck anyway,” Keith interrupted.

“You suck.

“Guys?” Hunk rapped his knuckles on the table. “I'm starting to think that maybe...maybe we're the weird aliens.”

“No way!” Lance shook his head at that.

“Think about it. We _are_ way behind the Alteans in tech – they built the castle and the lions before humans had even invented the wheel. There's been an entire intergalactic space-war going on while humans have been sharing videos of cats knocking things off shelves. And we do weird stuff to food.”

“I always thought pigs-in-blankets were weird,” Pidge added. “Meat wrapped in other meat?”

“Pizza is not weird!” Lance smacked both hands on the table. “Cheese is not weird.”

“It's kinda weird,” Keith said.

“Shut up, Keith.”

“I think Coran was right,” Hunk mused. “Cheese is kinda weird. Tasty, but weird. And Alteans have crystal-powered spaceships, and what do we have? Eighteen different ways to prepare potatoes.” 

“Hunk, there are not eighteen different ways to prepare potatoes.” Lance rolled his eyes.

“Are too.”

“List them!”

“Baked, boiled, mashed, roasted, french fries, hash browns, dauphinoise...”

In the doorway, Shiro hesitated, a hand over his mouth. He'd come down to the kitchen to find out if Hunk had actually gotten anywhere with his promised pizza experiment. Instead, he seemed to have missed the best half of a lecture on the history of earth cuisine.

“...gratin, potato salad...”

“Latkes!”

“Thank you, Pidge. Tater-tots, patatas bravas...”

Shiro didn't know whether to laugh or cry. The saviours of the universe, the paladins of Voltron, arguing over potatoes. The galaxy was doomed.


	4. Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follows on immediately from the previous chapter. Shiro attempts to explain Earth foods to Allura. She doesn't get it.

As he turned away from the kitchen door, Shiro narrowly avoided bumping into a very startled Princess Allura. For a fleeting few moments he felt various muscles send signals to bow, salute and punch all at the same time.

In the end, he settled for a hurried “Sorry!” before using his left hand to shepherd her away from the kitchen.

“What's going on in there?” She looked back over her shoulder even as Shiro led her away. “What did they do to the kitchen?”

“Nothing. Yet.” Shiro began to lead Allura in the direction of the room they'd dubbed 'the sitting room', the one with sunken padded benches and not much else. “They were just having a silly little squabble.”

“Well, their silly little squabbles in the kitchen usually end up leaving a silly little mess all over the place.”

He wanted to chuckle at the memory of their food fight, but Allura's tone suggested she wasn't so amused.

“They don't actually have any food in there. Which might be why they're arguing, come to think of it.”

Allura paused, gripping his elbow and looking confused.

“But surely there's plenty of food! Coran checked the tubes over just this morning and they were all in good order.”

“Solid food,” Shiro explained. “Hunk said something about trying to recreate a couple of earth recipes with the stuff he found on our last supply stop. By the sounds of it, he's still missing some things.”

“What sort of things?” They'd reached the sitting room, but instead of actually sitting, Allura wandered over to the screen at the far end of the room, and called up an image-feed from the ship's main viewfinder. There was nothing of interest to see, except the faint glimmer of distant stars that shifted gradually as they travelled.

“Potatoes.”

“What are potatoes?” Allura's voice slowed as she sounded out the word. Every so often, whatever magical tech was apparently translating for them struggled with words that had no Altean alternative; evidently 'potato' was one such word.

“It's a vegetable. I think. No, it's a tuber. They grow under ground.” Shiro's family had almost all been military people, and he was a little embarrassed to admit that he didn't have a great deal of knowledge of stuff like farming or manufacturing. Food came from stores or depots, in bulk quantities designed to feed a dozen soldiers or a couple of hundred cadets. How it got to the stores had never been of much concern for him.

“Tubers? Humans eat those?” Allura, in spite of all her regal bearing, actually looked a little disgusted at the thought. 

“You don't?”

“On Altea, that was the sort of food that forest animals ate. They were too heavy for people to digest.” Allura did something with the pad that controlled the screen, and the view changed to a still image of a large barrel-shaped animal with dark bristly fur and wide, flat feet, as if an elephant had been crossed with a bear. 

“Yeah, guess you wouldn't want to share food with one of those,” he said. “But potatoes are good, if you cook them right. You wouldn't just pull one out of the ground and eat it raw.”

Allura turned away from the screen, her face still quizzical.

“But why go to all that trouble? Surely there were other foods that were easier to eat. Fruits, or other plants?”

“Well, yeah, you could pick an apple off the tree and eat it right away, and it'd taste fine. But you bake apples in a pie, and that's something special.” He couldn't help smiling at the thought. How long had it been since he'd last eaten apple pie? He could practically taste it, the way his dad used to bake it with nutmeg and cinnamon, and cream drizzled over it, and...oh geez, was that his stomach growling?

“Food is important to humans,” Allura observed, mirroring his smile. “Meals were important on Altea too – we had family gatherings each morning for the first meal of the day, and ceremonial meals on special occasions. And of course diplomatic events meant sharing food with people from other worlds. But it's becoming clear that there's much more to it for you humans.”

Shiro thought briefly how best to explain it; he watched Allura's face, trying to figure out a point of reference she'd understand, but her piercing gaze proved a little too much, and he had to look away.

“Food's a pleasurable experience,” he tried. “Different foods taste...well, different. Some people like sweet foods, some people prefer spicy flavours.”

“Spicy?” Another word which didn't seem to translate well.

“You don't have spicy food?”

Allura shook her head.

“Altean flavours are subtle, I suppose. One plant tastes much like another. Some berries are different to others, or tastes sour when food is less fresh, but since the aim is primarily to refuel the body, what should it matter?”

Shiro tried to imagine a world where all food tasted the same. A lifetime spent eating green goo, with nothing but fruit for dessert. The sudden pang of homesickness was unexpected, and painful.

“Taste can tell you if food might be harmful. Smell, too. And colour.” He ticked off his list on the fingers of his metal hand. “A lot of human foods turn green when they go bad. Which, uh, might be why the castle food isn't so appealing to those guys?”

“But humans eat plants too,” she pointed out. “And aren't earth plants green?”

“It's...I guess it's kind of complicated.” He shrugged. “Stuff turns green because there's other stuff growing on it. Bad stuff. And a lot of kids don't like plants – vegetables, really – because they can taste a little bitter. Little kids like sweet foods because they need a lot of energy to grow and learn.”

“So what does 'spicy' taste like?” She switched the screen back to the view of space, and the two of them wandered over to the seats and sat beside each other to watch.

“It's...well, we say it's hot. But not temperature-hot. Spicy food makes the inside of your mouth tingle. Or burn, if it's really spicy.”

Allura's mouth pulled down into a hint of a frown.

“Sounds unpleasant. Why would you eat things that burn you?” He chuckled.

“It's sort of an endurance challenge, I guess. A bravery thing. Like a test of strength, with a side of rice.”

“I'm not sure I'd like earth food.”

“Oh, it's not all like that!” When Allura didn't look convinced, Shiro ploughed on. “Like, um...cheese! Cheese is totally different.”

“Yes, Coran told me about cheese.” She looked even more disgusted. He tried a different approach.

“Okay, then, how about meat? Honey-glazed ham with roast vegetables on the side. That was one of my dad's favourite meals when we got together as a family.”

Allura frowned at that suggestion.

“Alteans stopped eating meat long ago. We can eat a little, if we're offered it – after all, it's rude to refuse food at a diplomatic function unless it's harmful to you – but we don't need to kill animals for food, so we generally avoid it.”

Well, that probably explained the food goo.

“You know,” he began after a moment's thought, “I bet you'd like sweet food best.” He smiled at her, and finally she looked a little curious at the suggestion. “Warm apple pie, or Turkish Delight – that tastes like flowers.”

Her eyes lit up, and Shiro continued, warming to the subject. 

“There's this stuff called baklava, which has pastry and honey, and it's sweet and sticky and flaky and so good.” She leaned in a little closer, nodding for him to go on. “And gingerbread – it's sweet and tastes warm and almost spicy, just enough to make your mouth tingle. Oh, and chocolate – you would love chocolate. In fact, if we ever go to earth, I'm gonna buy you a whole box of the best chocolates just to see your face when you eat - ”

He broke off, feeling his face flush with heat.

“What is it?” She leaned closer as Shiro half-turned away. “It's like the cheese thing, isn't it? Where does chocolate come from?”

 

“No, it's not like that,” he mumbled, wondering if he was perhaps making too big a deal of things. “It's an earth custom, sort of. If you give someone chocolates, it's usually a romantic gesture.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Allura's face redden just a little, before she stood up.

“All this talk about food is making me hungry. Why don't we go see what the paladins have done to the kitchen?” She turned and began walking to the door. Shiro got up to follow, a few steps behind her. 

When she reached the doorway, she turned to look back at him.

“Shiro? I wouldn't mind if you gave me chocolate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to imagine that Shiro and Allura have a lot of conversations like this, just to enjoy being young adults away from all the seriousness of Voltron and the craziness of the younger paladins. And that they flirt a lot but daren't ever do anything more because it would screw up the team dynamic (and because Shiro doesn't think he's allowed to flirt with an actual princess, seeing how he's just a soldier and she's royalty).


End file.
